


I Know

by dbhprincess



Series: No Longer Alone [9]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbhprincess/pseuds/dbhprincess
Summary: In which Connor awakens in Hank's arms, and there are firsts between them at last.A HankCon AU inspired by the 2015 filmThe Martian. Takes place immediately after the events ofNo Longer Alone.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: No Longer Alone [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006686
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	I Know

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was first written as part of a [thread series](https://twitter.com/i/events/1294694026780631042) on Twitter.

Connor woke from a dreamless sleep to a sound he couldn’t place. It was rhythmic, a sort of whooshing noise that crested and ebbed like ocean waves along a shore. Clenching his eyelids tighter shut, Connor groaned weakly and thought wearily of what it might be that he’d have to fix this time in order to not die. Then suddenly something tickled the hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes popped wide open.

The wall he was facing was not a wall of the Hab, as he’d expected. For an incredibly confused moment, he didn’t know what it belonged to. But then that tickle at his neck came again and the arm encircling his waist – the one he just now noticed – tightened minutely, and Connor remembered where he was. Who he was with.

As Hank’s breath disturbed his hair a third time, Connor slowly shifted onto his back, unwilling to wake Hank before he was ready, content to watch him sleep. He’d never been able to study Hank like this: up close and unhurried, unconcerned about getting caught. Apparently, after he had fallen asleep, exhausted in every way possible after his unbelievable rescue, Hank had, too. And now they were cuddled together on his bed, in his quarters, in the ship that was taking them home. Tears welled so quickly it almost hurt, and a muted sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. Hank shifted, one knee bumping Connor’s thigh, and blinked awake. Connor hastily wiped his eyes.

“Hey, you,” Hank said in a low voice, scratchy from sleep. The dazzling blue of his eyes nearly glowed.

“You’re still here,” Connor replied, because that’s what mattered most just then.

Hank propped his head up on one hand, a small frown creasing his brow. “I’m not leaving you alone until I know you want to be alone, Connor.” He paused. “Do you want to be alone?”

Connor shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Neither do I.” Hank smiled and lifted his hand to flip a curl off Connor’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Connor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, taking stock. “Disbelieving. Overwhelmed. I’m actually here. And you’re here. And everything’s going to be okay. It’s kind of hard to believe just yet.”

Hank nodded. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

They fell quiet for a little while. Connor shifted closer to Hank, who wrapped his hand more securely around Connor’s waist and pulled him snugly against his side. Connor reached up to run his forefinger along Hank’s jawline, feeling the warmth of his neck, before dipping his fingertips into Hank’s beard.

“How long did we sleep?” he asked.

Hank twisted his wrist to look at his watch. “A few hours. Well, you did, anyway. You were out like a light. I was awake for a while, so…” Hank’s voice faded out, and he lifted his shoulder in a shrug.

“Did you watch me?” Connor said, intending to tease.

Hank shrugged again, the look on his face almost bashful. “Maybe a little. I just couldn’t believe you were here. If I took my eyes off you, you might disappear again. I couldn’t find you that day. You were behind me in the storm, and then suddenly you were gone. I looked for you. I damn near got the rest of us killed taking too long looking for you. But I couldn’t see a damn thing in that storm, and you were just _gone_.” Hank drew in a shaky breath. “I couldn’t have taken it if I’d woken up and you were gone again. If this had all been another dream.”

Connor’s fingers tightened in Hank’s beard. He knew too well what those wishful dreams were like; they weren’t real, and they meant nothing. But this was real, them being together was real, and Hank meant everything. Connor was going to have to tell him. He hadn’t survived the worst experience of his life just to let the best slip away unawares.

But he wasn’t brave enough yet. “It’s okay, Hank,” was all he said, and he could drown in the ocean of those eyes. “You found me now.”

His thumb rubbed against Hank’s cheek, back and forth, while they breathed together, in and out. For uncounted minutes, they shared their air, and their warmth, and a look. Then Hank’s watch beeped to signal dinnertime, and they both startled, then laughed. Hank pushed himself up. The strip along Connor’s stomach where his arm had been felt cold.

“How about we talk more later?” Hank said. “Right now, I want to get some food into you. And the others are going to come knocking if they don’t get to see you soon.” Hank swung his feet onto the floor and smirked. “Except North. She wouldn’t bother knocking.”

Connor chuckled and sat up, but carefully, since his ribs were sore. Hank must have seen his expression, because the next thing Connor knew, a couple pain pills and a glass of water were being shoved under his nose. He took them with a grateful smile. And maybe something more than gratitude was in that smile, for there was certainly more than gratitude in his heart. But he still wasn’t brave.

Hank scanned his face with an unreadable look, then cleared his throat and walked to Connor’s closet. After a quick search, he tossed a pair of pants at him and said, “Suit up, Connor. It’s time to eat.”

He kept his eyes downcast while Connor removed his shorts and raised them when he’d pulled up his pants. Hank’s eyes softened as he took in Connor’s face. “Get your shoes on and let’s go. I’ll heat you up anything you–”

“I’m not ready to leave yet,” Connor said, then winced at cutting him off so abruptly.

Hank’s forehead furrowed. “Why not?” he asked.

Connor licked his lips, stalling for time. “I’m not hungry,” he answered with a shrug.

Hank put his fists on his hips, impatience creeping into the chiseled lines of his face. “Connor, it’s been hours since you’ve eaten anything, and your body needs fuel to heal. Do I need to order you to march yourself down to the Rec?”

“No, but I…” Connor stopped, feeling as if his feet had been dunked into a bucket of ice water. “Never mind.”

“Okay, then, I’m leaving now. I expect you in the Rec in five minutes or I’m coming to drag you there myself.” Hank turned toward the door, and Connor quickly grabbed his arm. It was time to be brave.

“Hank, wait.” When Hank turned his way once more, Connor bit his lip, then blurted out, “I love you.” His voice sounded loud in his ears, but Hank’s exhale on a sigh was nearly silent.

Hank reached for Connor’s hand on his arm and closed the short distance between them. Wrinkles framed his brilliant blue eyes when he smiled and said, his tone light, “I know.”

Suddenly outraged, Connor’s eyes snapped wide, and he jerked his hand back. “Excuse me? No, you don’t get to tell me ‘I know.’ Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to say that? How many times I’ve imagined it happening and planned the perfect moment? And you have the audacity to tell me you already _know_? I–”

“Connor.” Hank cut him off, a laugh dancing on the edge of his voice.

Connor scowled. “What?”

Hank smirked at him, but there was nothing but adoration in it. “I love you, too.”

All Connor could do was stand there and gape, since his heart had stopped and all thought processes with it. “Oh.”

Hank leaned forward and planted a kiss on Connor’s forehead. “That’s right, Connor, ‘Oh.’ Are you ready to go get that dinner now?”

As Hank started to turn back toward the door, Connor surged forward, grabbed his face between his hands, and kissed him. Hank jerked back, obviously startled, but then melted against Connor’s mouth when he curled his fingers into the silver hairs of Hank’s beard. This was not how Connor had imagined their first kiss, either, with him weak and sore, Hank’s hands spanning too much of his shrunken waist, sliding carefully across bandaged wounds, pressing against prominent ribs and vertebrae. But it was still a perfect moment, because Hank was soft and warm and murmuring Connor’s name and _kissing him back_. Connor whimpered.

Hank’s hands tightened, pulling Connor decisively against his chest. “Connor, Connor, I'm crazy about you.”

Hank’s voice was low and hoarse, and Connor shivered at the near desperation that radiated through those words. His hands shifted to the back of Hank’s head and anchored themselves in his hair. “I know, Hank,” he replied between open-mouthed kisses. He was beginning to feel light-headed, his body too focused on everywhere Hank was touching him to remember to breathe properly. “I know.”

And Connor did know, because he was crazy about Hank, too, and always had been. With that thought, he pulled away and gasped in a deep breath. Hank was panting a bit, too, when Connor asked, “We’ve always known, though, haven’t we?”

And there was that smirk again. The one that told Connor that Hank was right there with him in every way possible. “Yes, baby, I think we have,” Hank replied. But then he unwrapped Connor’s arms from around his neck – Connor didn’t quite remember putting them there – and stepped back. “But it’s time to go eat now.”

Connor huffed. “I’m still not hungry.” He felt restless inside; his heart was full, but his arms were empty.

Hank smiled, but shook his head firmly. “You need a decent meal.”

Connor stepped into Hank’s space again and laid a hand on his chest, staring unflinchingly into Hank’s eyes. “I need you.”

Hank’s nostrils flared. He tentatively placed a large hand over the one on his chest. “What do you mean, Connor?”

With resolve, Connor expanded his lungs with a deep breath before saying, “I mean that we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

When Hank squeezed his hand and agreed, “I do,” Connor shuffled backward and tugged him toward the bed. As his calves hit the mattress, Connor stopped and looked down at his legs, commenting ruefully, “I just put these on.”

Hank gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Would you rather keep them on?”

Connor answered with a scornful side-eye, then almost tripped over his pants in his haste to take them off.

“Whoa, slow down there, champ,” Hank said as he grabbed Connor’s arm to stabilize him. “We’ve got all the time we need, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that was a miraculous thing, wasn’t it? Hank wasn’t going anywhere. The white walls of this room weren’t going to dissolve into the white dome of the Hab as he woke from yet another beguiling, deceitful dream. He wasn’t still on Mars, and he didn’t die on Mars. Hank was here with him; he was not alone. And he no longer had to clutch and grasp at each waking moment in case it was his last.

Instead, he reached out a hand for Hank. “Come here,” he ordered softly, taking charge of this moment between them. He’d had so little control of his fate for too long, and he was sure Hank wouldn’t mind.

And Hank didn’t, of course. Not breaking eye contact, Hank silently toed off shoes and took his hand. “Gotten a little bossy, haven’t you?” he said with fond amusement.

“Being your own boss for eighteen months will do that to you. Now take off your pants.”

Reaching for his waistband, Hank replied, “Roger that, Con. You’re in charge of this mission.”

Connor rolled his eyes at that, but couldn’t help being charmed. He adored the man standing before him, seemingly calm and relaxed, but trying so hard to be everything Connor needed him to be right now. And as Connor watched Hank, he was captivated by the tell-tale tremor in Hank’s hands, by the flush that crept up his neck as he pushed his pants down and off his legs.

When Hank stood straight and dropped them to the floor, Connor grabbed his t-shirt in a fist and crushed their mouths together once again. Though Connor’s desire was strong, his body was still weak, so he was glad when Hank captured his arms and lowered them both to the bed.

Hank broke the kiss and cupped Connor’s cheek. “You’re sure you’re okay to do this?” he asked, and Connor could have shaken him for his foolishness if he wasn’t saving his energy to do other things to him instead.

So he grit his teeth and gave Hank the reassurance he was seeking. “Obviously, Hank.”

Hank pinched his cheek in retaliation for that bit of impertinence. Then he put his hand to Connor’s chest and gently pushed him back. “Lie down and let me take care of you,” he said, and the reverence that rumbled through Hank’s voice caused Connor’s eyes to fill. But he’d cried enough for today, so he just nodded and complied.

As Connor lowered his back to the bed, Hank followed him down, lying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. One large hand settled on Connor’s stomach, over his t-shirt, while the other touched the tips of Connor’s unruly curls.

“I like these,” Hank said as he dragged his fingertips through the hair and watched the strands stretch and recoil as if fascinated.

“Then I’ll keep them,” replied Connor. It was that simple, that easy.

Hank twirled his finger to twist a curl around it. “Looks like I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.” His eyes shifted to Connor’s face. “But it’s really the other way around, isn’t it?”

Connor admired those beloved blue eyes for a moment, then reached for the back of Hank’s neck. “It’s both, you ridiculous man,” he said, as he pulled Hank down into another kiss.

This one was soft and slow, a gentle excursion of exploring mouths and wandering hands. Hank’s body began to tilt, until his belly pressed Connor deeper into the mattress. Connor discovered that the weight grounded him, that the softness, and warmth, and strength of Hank’s body was a balm to his own, battered and fragile as it was.

The hand that had shifted to his side abruptly slid under his shirt, and Connor flinched, then grabbed Hank’s hand when he started to pull it away. “No, it’s alright,” he said. “You just grazed one of my sores, and it startled me.”

Hank carefully lifted the t-shirt’s hem and looked at Connor’s abdomen. “You okay to take this off? If I can see the painful parts, I can avoid them.”

Eager to continue, Connor nodded. Determined to not let his physical state deter Hank from his current mission of taking care of him, Connor batted his lashes at Hank and asked, “Care to help, big guy?”

Hank huffed a laugh and grinned, but his face grew serious again as he worked the shirt off Connor’s wasted frame, being mindful of his cracked ribs. His eyes were sad when he said, “Connor, I–”

Connor stopped him with a hand to his cheek. “Not right now, Hank. We can talk about it later, okay?”

Hank’s mouth pinched tight, but then he nodded and said, “You’re right. I’ve wanted you like this for a long time. I’ve dreamed about it, even. And now you’re here, and I– I’m so damn lucky. Jesus, Connor, do you have any idea what–” Hank stopped himself this time, squeezing his eyes shut with a thumb and forefinger. A long, slow breath shuddered through him.

Connor wrapped his fingers around Hank’s wrist and lowered his hand from his face. Then he smiled, gentle and sweet. He wiped the moisture collecting under Hank’s eyelids. “Believe me, Hank, I know.”

Then his eyes drifted down over Hank’s broad chest. He fingered the bottom edge of Hank’s t-shirt. “Take this off for me?” he asked, a little impatiently.

Hank sat up and brusquely pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor on top of his pants. Connor stared. He thought back to the day, nearly two years ago, when Hank had walked into the Rec after working out, his shirt clinging to his sweaty chest. Their flirting had been intense, and when Hank had knocked down Connor’s card tower, the walls he’d kept erected around his heart had toppled along with it. He’d known there was something stirring between them all along, of course, but he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it, nor to begin hoping for some kind of future together. Hank’s response to Connor’s question of what Hank wanted but couldn’t have had changed that.

Connor’s silent introspection was broken when Hank asked, “What are you thinking, Con? You could make a guy question himself staring like that.”

Connor blinked and lifted his gaze from Hank’s chest. “There’s nothing for you to question, Hank. You’re perfect.” He laid a surprisingly shaky palm flat against the tattoo nestled in the center of Hank’s chest. “I’m thinking about how I used to wonder if we’d ever get here. If your responsibilities and our duty to the mission would keep us apart until it was too late.”

Hank reached for Connor’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “Yeah, well, you’ve given enough to duty, and so have I.” He paused, thinking. “But we’re keeping this private for now. I’m willing to break protocol for this, but I’m not going to flaunt it in everyone’s faces. Agreed?”

Connor squeezed Hank’s hand. “Agreed. Now get back down here, please. I want to touch you.” He tugged, and with a grunt and a “Jesus,” Hank collapsed over him, arms braced on either side of Connor’s head, keeping his weight off Connor’s chest. “That’s better, don’t you think?” Connor said with a wink, and Hank laughed – a big, beautiful sound that filled the corners of the small room and of Connor’s heart.

But then it was quiet as they found other uses for their mouths, as they talked instead with their hands. Hank dotted kisses all across Connor’s abdomen, avoiding his injuries and homing in on his moles. Then he kissed his way up, and Connor felt Hank’s lips curve in a smile when they found that one mole just below Connor’s collarbone.

While Hank’s mouth roamed, Connor’s hands prowled, touching Hank’s torso anywhere and everywhere. His back was broad and powerful; his spine had a sensuous curve. The dip at the base of it led Connor’s hands over Hank’s sides and around to his belly, where the firm muscles twitched under the attention as Connor stroked and squeezed.

Hank pulled his mouth from Connor’s skin and huffed a laugh. “Got a thing for my gut, do ya?”

Connor gave him a pinch at the base of his navel. “I got a thing for you. The gut’s just a bonus.”

Hank scoffed, but his eyes were tender as he searched Connor’s face. “Are you still doing alright?”

“I’d be doing a lot better if you’d stop talking already and start taking care of me like you said you would,” Connor said with a hint of a pout.

Hank stroked his thumb along Connor’s bottom lip. “I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he said as he bent his head to Connor’s chest and placed a kiss on each nipple.

And Connor agreed with a shiver and a sigh, his hands carding into Hank’s hair. “You do, Hank. You have me.”

As Hank skimmed kisses down across his navel, Connor’s empty stomach growled for attention. But for the both of them, other parts were clamoring louder, so they ignored the interruption like Connor had ignored Hank’s insistence that it was time to eat. That was the first time Connor had disobeyed an order from his commander, but Hank allowed his little mutiny. Dinner could wait, but they could not. Right now, they had love and each other to feast on.


End file.
